The fashion industry, in my opinion, can be divided into classed sectors: those that market to women of color, and those that do not.
The Luxury Goods Sector: Most successful Asian or Asian-American designers must dress white women in order to be successful, and only enjoy moderate success in Asia, where European designers hold much more stake in business, real estate, etc. As for black or Latino designers, much of the same is true; the Argentinean and Brazilian elite would much rather be dressed by Versace than Isabel Toledo.
Meanwhile, women of color will constantly be marketed to in mainstream, mid-price point, and bridge collections. It is HERE, in the malls, department stores, mid-price boutiques, that we’ll see models of color, and more versatile silhouettes. We buy, wear, account for so much spending power as a collective, but continue to be excluded or ignored by the upper-echelon aesthete-makers.
Honestly, that’s fine by me. I’m not interested in even being MADE to want a $3K dress (or really, a $300 dress for that matter). But that’s why Rachel Roy’s design work is so interesting. She’s beautiful, present in media (being the wife of Damon Dash), and extremely talented. And she uses women of color in her shows, and DESIGNS for women of color.
For her Fall 08 show, Roy showed what Style.com quotes as “the intersection between Native American and Colonial styles, but brought up-to-date for the women of today.” That sounds a little far-fetched to me, but her execution? Beautiful. The reviewer didn’t like it, but I honestly just didn’t think she got it; really, what white woman could get away with black lipstick, open-toed ankle boots, a feather necklace, and a silk jacquard suit?
(Photo Courtesy of Style.com; Click picture to follow to Review of Roy’s Fall 08 Show)
I’ve run away back to the sticks of Massachusetts; it’s so funny because I’ve never made such a reactionary decision, so quickly, to go from one place to another. So, my mentality here, amongst these woods and piles of snow, is still ringing from the sounds of the city. Driving back, I hadn’t even realized that we were out, already past the Bronx, past Co-op City, until I saw the booths for the State Thruway.
Even stranger (funnier?) then, to read about, and think about, the cycles of urban space, especially gathered from the litany of blogs and news sites I visit daily. Sometimes, the news and the comments go head to head for what-makes-me-angrier. But for what, right?
I told someone once, that one of the reasons I (and some of my friends) don’t always get along with upper middle-class New Yorkers, especially Manhattanites, is that there’s such a mentality of “NY is the best, I love NY blah blah blah;” we’re so spoiled by our city, apparently, with its 24-hour convenience, and flat-rate subways, cultural offerings, rampant consumer options. But what we don’t often talk about, only complain about in passing, is the kind of pain someone from New York experiences when, say, rents on the block go up, or a family’s business can’t renew the lease on a space. Or, someone who has just moved in around the corner calls the cops on someone suspicious-looking, who has lived there for twenty-five years.
Anger, pain, blah blah. So why do (we) still love our city?
Gothamist posted today about an inkling of plans to restore the waterfront along Sunset Park, the neighborhood I grew up in, and one day, hope to call home again (if I can afford the rising rents upon graduation). What stands there now? A Costco, some piers, maaaad industrial warehouses, and the Gowanus Expressway, a long stretch of what is really just part of the BQE [from the Verrazano Bridge to the Battery Tunnel entrance]. I’ve [been] driven along this road so many times: the same “Say No to Drugs and Yes to Rugs!” and “Utz! Chips!” signs have been up for as long as I can remember. Starting at about 24th Street, I can see the huge white steeple of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, where I attended pre-K, and in the flashing glimpses of the waterfront between the warehouses, I can recount two middle school-era first dates.
The post, and its links, say much about the ambivalence I feel towards these urban cycles. Some architects want to re-green the waterfront for the neighborhoods that lost access when they first expanded the expressway? When they built the Els in the first place, tons of residents were displaced? It’d be better for the neighborhood than all the porn shops in the area? (See Mumford quote above.) All of it sounds simultaneously ominous and exciting. Did a new generation of urban planners realize their predecessors’ mistakes? Or, will the construction just continue to displace an already-hurting borough, whose residents now have to move further out along the subway lines, to Canarsie, Coney, and Queens, just to afford the rent? Just like the West Side Highway reconstruction, which sounded the death rattle for working-class West Villagers…
I think I’m partially projecting personal feelings onto the canvas of everyday city politics; I also feel, however, that this Catch-22 of prospective change epitomizes the “losing battle” sentiment that so many New Yorkers have, when it comes to holding on to our urban spaces, their histories, our respect. There’s nostalgia, and resentment, and fear. Most of all, there’s a crisis in action: really, what would an “un-gentrified NY” look like? We know: it can’t exist.